𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 | ᵍʳᵉʸˢ ᵃⁿᵃᵗᵒᵐʸ

𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟 | ²⁰⁰⁴

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐍, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟒

That night, when the truth became too heavy, when reality seemed too cruel, I found myself alone at the police department.

"I want to report a missing person," I said to the officer behind the counter. He was a middle-aged man with tired eyes that spoke of too many nights like this.

"And who is missing?" he asked, flipping through a stack of forms.

"My father," I replied, showing him a picture of Dad on my phone.

The cold neon light from the lamp above me hummed softly, a monotonous melody of bureaucracy. "Did you try to call his phone?"

"Of course I did!" I snapped, frustrated that he didn't understand. "I've sent him messages, called him every hour. He just doesn't answer."

The officer looked between the photo on the screen and me, his gaze skeptical. "How old are you, young lady?" he asked, as if my age was a factor in my credibility.

"Fifteen."

He looked at me over the rim of his glasses, as if trying to read my mind. "And your mother? Does she know you're here?"

"No," I admitted, "but it doesn't matter. We have to find my Dad."

"So you want to report your father as a missing person because he doesn't answer his phone?"

"Yes."

Suddenly I felt out of place, like an intruder in a world where real tragedies were happening. But I couldn't help it. I had to do it. It was the only choice I had left.

"What's your father's name and how long has he been missing?"

"Derek Shepherd," I answered, the name echoing in my mind as if I had just performed a magical spell to bring him back. "He's been missing for a couple of weeks."

The officer nodded slowly, as if he understood my desperation but didn't want to acknowledge it.

"We'll do a missing persons report. But I have to tell you, there's not much we can do if he decided to leave voluntarily."

I didn't react to his words. They didn't fit into the story I had told myself - the story where my father was the hero who would never abandon his child.

The officer came around the counter and motioned for me to follow him. Feeling a little intimidated, I followed him into a small, bare room where he pulled up a chair for me and then sat down at the desk across from me.

"Okay, tell me everything you know. When did you last see him? What was he wearing?"

I told him about the past few days, the countless phone calls, the futile attempts to reach Dad. Every detail, every memory felt like a knife in my heart.

"Were there any arguments in the family?"

I nodded, even though every part of me was fighting this cruel reality. "Yes, there... there was a fight," I admitted quietly, my eyes lowered. The truth was hard to say, as if I had to pull it out of the deepest, darkest part of my conscience.

"My Dad caught my Mom having an affair with his best friend."

The officer frowned, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.

"That sounds like a pretty bad situation. Did your father say anything after that before he left?"

"He yelled at me, saying I had betrayed him by not telling him. I knew about it, but I... I just couldn't. He just yelled and then stormed out. He got in his car and drove away."

My voice broke and I fought back tears.

"I see..." he murmured, writing something in his notes and then looking at me with an expression somewhere between sympathy and professional detachment.

"And your Mom? What does she say?"

"She said he left because he... he doesn't want to be with us anymore." The words were bitter and cold in my mouth. "But that can't be true. He would never do this to me."

As I spoke, a picture of my father came into my mind - how he laughed, how he held me in his arms, how he promised to always be there for me. But it all seemed so far away now.

"We'll do our best," the officer said when we were finished. "But I want you to be prepared for the possibility that he may not want to be found."

These words hit me like a hammer. Not wanting to be found. As if he had decided to leave me, us, his whole life behind.

When I left the police department, I didn't feel relieved, but even more lost. The night air was cold against my skin, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk.

I wanted to believe that he was out there somewhere, hurt or in trouble, anything but the truth that he had simply abandoned me.